


At the Unicorn Club

by Venivincere



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally published without a summary. Pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Unicorn Club

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published at Skyehawke here: http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=703 on December 7, 2003.

The tops in the club have been watching Harry ever since he walked in. He's obviously a bit uncertain, and he's never been here before, or one of the regulars would have walked up to him and claimed him by now. He's come in with a well-known bottom, and one of the tops has already drawn him aside and got his leathers on him. He looks good, that red-head, and the metal spikes on the leather collar reflect the red of his hair, and they flash as his top pushes him onto his knees. He looks eager, too, even though his top is giving him a hard time in the mouth. It's obvious he aims to please; such a good bottom.  
  
But the dark-haired boy -- he's an untamed wonder. The unoccupied tops start eyeing each other and this unknown quantity. Who gets him? And though it seems as if he would bottom beautifully, they don't really know yet. But the young man's eyes are fixed on the scene before him, and they're growing wider. He puts his hands to the front of himself, covering, pressing, and the fingers spasm once around his length and his shoulders jerk, and suddenly the tops are converging around this young man...he's a bottom alright, and they all,  _they all_  want to be first to him. They want a chance to clean him up, to punish him for coming in his pants like that, to truss him in leather and fuck him into submission.  
  
One man is first; he circles, he talks the boy from ragged breathing to calm, even breaths, and from there, by a finger under his chin and a hand cupping his hipbone into deep, aroused lungfuls. The top commands him to strip, and the young man looks lost, but relieved when he is offered a leather corset to put on. The top laces it tightly; it shapes his waist into an almost feminine curve, accentuated by the perfect satin globes of his ass. The top can't resist them either, and pushes his finger between them, seeking his entrance. The boy pushes his ass back, trying to fuck him self on it -- but the top laughs and removes his finger, smacks him hard, once, on the arse, and spins the boy around to face him.  
  
He is hard, and his curls are still damp and sticky from his earlier orgasm. The top summons a cloth and warm water, and cleans him up. The boy's eyes never leave his, and his lip is trembling just the slightest bit with each stroke of the cloth.  
  
The top turns him, and washes his arse thoroughly.  
  
The top wastes no time. He draws his fingers through a vial of scented oil and runs them through the young man's crack. He jumps with the sensation, and the tops all murmur appreciatively. He's a sensitive one; his top will have to watch him. A little oily-fingered slap has the boy jumping again, and he casts his eyes down and murmurs an apology.  
  
He is guided to the edge of a high table and told to lean over it. The red-haired bottom he walked in with is sitting there drinking something golden in a cup, with his top. The tops speak low to one another and the red-head squeaks a bit and looks at the boy -- who gives a small nod. The red-head looks as though Christmas has come early as he hurtles himself out of his high chair and disappears under the table. The tops grin at one another, and the boy's slicks his long, thick cock with more oil. A quiet word under the table, and as the top pushes in, all slick, the red-head leans forward and consumes the boy's cock.  
  
The top and the red-head set up a rhythm. They both push at the same time, so when the top is buried balls-deep in the boy, the boy is buried balls-deep in the red-head's mouth. They go slowly at first, and the red-head deep-throats the boy with ease without so much as a gag. When he gets all the way down, he lingers until the boy shudders and he can feel him pulled away by the suction behind. The tops all recognise the red-head's skill in this, and make plans to ask if he will be shared this night. Many of them have had him before, and he is making them remember...  
  
The rhythm speeds up. The top's eyes can no longer stay open, and there's a wrinkle in his forehead which the others know he only gets with special boys. The boy is making breathy little moans with each thrust, and he cannot help but thrust himself into the red-head's mouth with each suck.  
  
The rhythm changes, and now when the top thrusts into the boy, it's hard and demanding and everyone in the club can hear the hard smack of flesh on flesh. The boy pushes back into the thrust, then forward, deep into the red-head's mouth, who has two single tear-tracks down the sides of his cheeks, and is frantically trying to keep the pace set by the top without choking. With each thrust back and forth, the boy shudders more, he trembles and the tops can all tell that he is leaning harder and harder on the table for support.  
  
Each breath out of him is a keen, now, and he's close -- it's obvious he's close. And then the keening stops and a flush creeps up his neck, he's holding his breath and his eyes bulge out a bit. The table holds him, his toes on the floor used only to thrust his hips forward into the mouth he is filling, and it's four, five, six,  _seven_  squirting thrusts before he drags a loud breath in and his heels hit the floor, and the red-head under the table comes out and stands, tears streaming down his cheeks, mouth full, and leans in to the boy's top and transfers the contents of his mouth to him.  
  
The boy's top laps and swallows all the come out of the red-head's mouth, swallows, and licks inside to get the last of it out, and thrusts, once, twice, thrice, and grips the boy's hips hard and quivers with his release. His breath shudders in the stillness of the club, everyone long ago having given up pretense to watch. He thrusts once  _hard_ , and pulls himself out.  
  
The boy rises shakily from the table, his slapped arse as red as his face, breathing hard. White come dribbles out between the perfect, satin globes of his ass, and the red-head is once again commanded to get to work. He kneels behind the boy and licks him clean. Their tops order drinks; they sit down at the table together, the boy and the red-head on the laps of their masters. The boy shuts his eyes and clings, and it's obvious he's much too tired for anything for awhile.  
  
The murmured conversations resume, and the tops return to their activities, aroused, and wishing they had seen the signs, wishing they had got there first.   
  
~fin~


End file.
